


Freaky Friday

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair and Jim switch body on Friday the 13th</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freaky Friday

## Freaky Friday

by Athena

Author's website:  <http://fateordestiny.com>

I was in the audience in Readercon when Harlan Ellison made the comment paraphrased in the story. Harlan Ellison also said that my daughter would "Go well with parley."

I like to thank Timberwolf for proofreading.

* * *

I'm Blair Sandburg, a 28-year-old graduate student, and this is my room. It isn't exactly a room, but a storage closet. Jim, my roommate, put French doors on it so I would have the semblance of privacy, not like anyone could have privacy living with a sentinel, but who am I to complain, living here rent-free? I help Jim with his senses and he gives me a place to stay. I also cook for him, find him scent-free cleaning supplies, and buy him organic fruits and vegetables. Jim broke out in hives from ordinary grocery store apples, but that is a different story. My little room (closet) is my space. I don't have to keep it dust-free and organized. The rest of the loft must stay completely clean and odor-free or Mr. Anal Retentive has a fit; he owns the loft so I have to follow his rules. 

It was now five in the morning, Friday the 13th, and I had to teach a class at 9:25 this morning. I'm about to describe the most unusual day in my life. Considering, I've thrown a vending machine on a bad guy, been tied to a dentist's chair by a lunatic, and been poisoned by tainted pizza, that's saying a lot. There was no point in sleeping. Jim didn't have to get to the station until 2 in the afternoon. Last night, he had said, "If I were you, I'd stay in the truck." He wouldn't. I had tried to sit there and wait, but it had been so long and I was afraid that Jim zoned on something. When he uses one sense exclusively, he can zone from the overload. He needs me to redirect him so he isn't mesmerized by sensation. I was only looking out for him. 

If I were him, I'd use my senses better. I laid down for a couple hours of shuteye. "Shit," I yelled, only it wasn't my voice. My head hurt like hell, more descriptively, like a cement mixer went over it. When I touched my temples to ease the throbbing, I realized my hair was gone; someone shaved my head in my sleep. I was going to kill Jim. He once threatened to cut it in my sleep, but he wouldn't dare! I felt as if my blood vessels would explode, my body itched and my shorts cut into my balls and felt like sandpaper. 

Jim's sleep mask tangled in my fingers as I pulled my hands over my eyes. What was his sleep mask doing on me? My kingdom for an aspirin. I didn't usually approve of over-the-counter medication, but this morning I'd make an exception. Shit, actually piss, I needed to pee. However, I was in too much pain to move. Somehow I managed to roll to the edge of the bed. A passing garbage truck rattled me to my bones, the walls vibrated with the sound, making me hold my ears. I opened my eyes a peek, although the room was too bright. How did I get in Jim's bed? 

I got on my feet, Jim's feet. I was somehow in Jim's body. I was inside Jim's body. If I was here, where was Jim? I thought dials. Where are those fucking dials? As I stumbled to the stairs, remembering the only bathroom was downstairs, I tried to find those dials that I told Jim about. Was his world always this bright, loud, and painful? I stubbed my toe, his toe, whatever, on the first step. He better not cut my hair. 

Getting to the bathroom, I saw Jim's face as I looked at the mirror. I felt my face, his face, and decided that I didn't need to shave. I had more facial hair five hours after shaving than Jim had in morning. I touched my penis to pee. Touching myself gave me an erection and made it impossible to pee. I finally located the dials and was able to reduce the pain in my head. 

I decided to sit down to pee. Fondling Jim's cock was turning me on. I didn't realize that I felt that way about him. I had an occasional fantasy about him but it seemed normal that I would fantasize about someone so important in my life and it didn't necessarily mean that I wanted to have sex with him. I needed to stop thinking about Jim's gorgeous body in my hands and stop the pain and pressure on my sphincter muscles. Finally, relief. 

Jim's legs looked so long and pale under my eyes; his skin seemed so white. Even in Cascade, I had a perpetual tan. I did my best to get some sun and used moisturizer to maintain my tan even in the winter. His feet looked so large as I was sitting on the toilet. No wonder I stubbed my toe on the stairs; what did he wear a twelve or thirteen shoe? 

After I got off the toilet, I looked through the glass of the French doors. I was sleeping normally. I had light, purring snores like a cat. What a strange sensation looking at myself? The sound of my heartbeat and the light snoring was surprisingly pleasant to my ears. Jim, enjoying the virtual lack of sensation, continued to sleep. I walked upstairs, figuring it would be a shock to his system to see himself naked and not be in front of a mirror. It was bad enough seeing myself in bed covered in blankets. 

I opened Jim's closet and took out a robe. I needed to wear more than a robe if I was going to Rainier with Jim. I put on a pair of Jockey shorts, a tee shirt, jeans and Jim's favorite blue shirt. I sat on the bed and put on a pair of white socks. Jim had rather large feet and my socks wouldn't have fit him. I had to wake myself up and get Jim to teach my freshman class. My advisor wasn't going to believe me if I told him that I was having an out-of-body experience. 

I managed the stairs better, remembering my feet were several sizes larger, and opened the French doors. "Wake up, Sleepyhead. You have a 9:25 class to teach." 

"What? I must be having a nightmare." Jim, in my body, pulled the pillow over his head. "There's too much hair." 

"I woke up thinking you shaved me. I'll brush your hair." 

"What I'm seeing?" Jim buried his head, again. His heart was racing and I could smell the sweat from his adrenaline pumping. Jim was still playing ostrich, but his body was in flight or fight syndrome. 

"Let's get you dressed. You're teaching my 9:25 class. Simon isn't expecting me until 2:00; hopefully, this will be over by then." 

"And if it isn't?" Jim sat up on the edge of the futon. 

I tried not to stare at myself stretching and yawning. I looked cute in my Cascade PD sweats with my hair in all directions. "I'll tell Simon that I'm having sensory spikes; he'll have me do paperwork and I do your paperwork better than you do." 

Jim rubbed his eyes, my eyes. "Chief, do you know that your eyesight sucks? Do you always wake up with spots in front of your eyes?" Jim batted at the imaginary spots. 

"The first cup of coffee helps," I said. 

"What about my signature?" 

"How many times have I forged your signature?" 

"If you weren't in my body, I'd strangle you." Going from exceptional vision to myopic must have been quite a shock. At least, seeing his own body slightly blurry might have reduced the sense of panic. "Chief, where are your glasses?" 

"First. Don't call me Chief. I'm Jim; you're Chief. Second, I don't shave or brush my teeth with my glasses on," I explained. "Don't worry. I have an electric." 

"I won't be able to brush your teeth without them," Jim said with my voice. 

I handed Jim the glasses. "You promised me a second pair when you broke my spare." 

Jim put them on. "Better. Could you make me some coffee and toast?" 

"Sure. Can you manage to shave without nicking me?" 

"I did it blind." 

"But you know the contours of your face." 

Jim put his hand on my face. "You didn't bother to shave." 

"What?" I left him to shave as I went into the kitchen to make coffee. I poured us coffee as I heard him flush the toilet. I put the toast and jelly on the table as he joined me at the kitchen table. "Chief," I managed to say and grabbed an apple. Jim needed some fiber in his diet; I didn't feel like asking Jim if he was always constipated. 

Jim felt his face, my face, after a close shave with my electric. "Not bad. How did this happen?" 

"We'll figure it out after you teach my class." 

"I'm not an anthropology TA." 

"Just put on a video. You can read my notes. You have listened to me rant enough." I handed Jim my backpack, containing my notes and textbook for the class that I was teaching in less than an hour. "Talk about your experience in Peru in third person. My class would love to hear about your experience with the Chopec." 

"Come with me." 

"I'll sit in the back. Chief, you can teach thirty-five freshman basic anthropology. My notes are pretty good." 

"And you're going to drive me in the truck," Jim said looking up at me with my dark blue eyes. 

I ruffled up his hair. "Let me help brush your hair. I can't leave the house looking like that." 

His hair was in all directions. "I could see a barber after class," Jim said. 

"Don't even think about it." After I put the couple of dishes in the sink, I handed the large brush to Jim. "I can do it." 

"It's your hair. I have always kept mine short." 

I brushed it out; it was relatively tangle free. I put a ponytail holder in it. "It'll do. Let's get you there before my class is cancelled." I followed myself to the truck. 

Jim got into the driver's seat and adjusted it for his lack of height. I tried to relax as Jim hit the gas too hard pulling out, apparently misjudging due to change in the size of his legs and feet. Jim hit the gas too lightly as we merged into traffic. I didn't laugh, knowing that I would have the same problem if I were in the driver's seat, not used to the big feet and longer legs. We parked in the faculty lot; I had managed to get a faculty sticker because I taught several classes. 

Jim followed me to my class. I hoped that I could behave like Jim. Could I be an overprotective, anal asshole? Jim seemed to hang on me like a protective boyfriend when he met me on campus, chasing all the potential dates away. I often told him that no women would approach me with him around; they would think that I lived with a two-hundred pound man. I didn't understand Jim; he wouldn't ask me to his bed, but he didn't want me to date anyone else. I put my arms around "Chief's" shoulder and gently muffed his hair. I put my hand lightly over his forehead. He was nearly short enough that I could put my chin on top of his head. God, it was fun flirting with myself. 

Jim acted nonplussed when I put my hand on his arm, like he was trying to pretend I wasn't there. "I don't act like that." 

"I'm only exaggerating what you do. I now know why the TA's stopped going out with me. You're all over me." I caressed his hair again. "If you wanted me to go to bed with you, all you needed to do was ask." 

"We'll talk about it in the truck." Jim smiled foolishly, glowing ear-to-ear. 

When Christine walked over, I nudged Jim. 

"Hi, Chris," said Jim. "I'm sorry I insulted you. I wish I could take it back." 

"It's a little too late for that," said Christine. 

"You remember my roommate, Jim Ellison," said Jim. 

"How could I forget?" Christine said. "I'll be seeing you around. I have a class to teach." 

After I heard Christine's footsteps in the stairs, I said, "I'm not that nervous around women." 

"Yes, you are." Jim walked up the podium and took out the textbook and notes from the backpack as I sat in the back row in a chair that was made for someone my height, not Jim's. 

I swear they make these chairs for the Japanese ideal as I struggle to keep my knees from bumping into the bottom of the desk. It was eerie seeing myself teach. I yelled, "Mr. Sandburg, you have to talk louder. We can't hear you in the back row." 

Jim raised his voice although he knew I could hear him fine; besides, it was my notes he was mumbling through. I was glad that no faculty was observing my pitiful performance today; the big brave cop had this fear of public speaking. Who knew? 

Another student complained, "Mr. Sandburg, did you spend all night on stakeout?" 

"I did," Jim put down the notes and started talking about his experience in Peru, remembering to put it in third person. His voice became clearer as he grew more sure of himself. 

"Lunch." I took his arm after class, acting like the macho asshole that Jim usually was. 

"After that we can go to the station and do paperwork," Jim said. "I hope whatever this is; it is over by Monday. I'm not teaching another class for you." 

"You just have to read my notes," I whispered taking his hand in mine. His heartbeat was faster than usual. "You never told me that you were afraid of public speaking." 

"Fear of public speaking beats death in lots of surveys," Jim said holding my hand. His pulse calmed; he relaxed to my touch. "Jim, I miss sensing you." 

We reached the truck. "I better drive," I explained. "If they see Sandburg driving your truck they will think you've lost it." 

"Drive. I miss my senses." He climbed into the passenger seat. "And my height." 

"You can have the height. That chair tried to kill me." I readjusted the seat and the mirrors. "I can always get a ladder. There is no cure for your knees hitting under the dashboard. By the way, I stubbed your toe this morning." As I pushed the seat back, I recalled Harlan Ellison saying that anyone above his height was a mutant giant. I wanted to get out of this mutant giant body and back to my normal size one; chairs, airplane and movie seats and cars were designed for someone my height. 

"Sandburg, let's eat and make up an excuse not to go into the office today." 

"Chief, remember you're Sandburg." I started laughing. "It isn't like you can forget." 

"How are the dials?" Jim asked. 

"I'm still working on them," I said. "I like the sound of your heartbeat. I seem to tune into it without conscious effort. I like your smell, too. Jim, are you in love with me?" 

"This isn't the time to ask." He leaned back into the seat. 

"It's a yes or no question." 

"Can the answer wait until I'm myself?" 

"Sure. I need to put all my attention on driving. You touch me all the time and your senses seemed directed to me." 

"You're the most important person in my life. You should drop me off at home and go to the office alone." 

"Can we talk in the loft a moment? Simon won't fire me if I'm a few minutes late." 

"Fire me," Jim repeated. 

"Exactly." 

I parked the truck in the first available space near the loft and we walked up. I opened the door. 

Jim dropped my backpack in my room and tossed the key into the basket. "Chief, we need to talk." Jim stroked my cheek and turned to face me, then left to make sandwiches. 

I took an apple from the refrigerator and poured two glasses of orange juice. 

Jim had trouble reaching a banana in the basket above the refrigerator. "I didn't realize how short you were." 

"Thanks a lot." I ate the apple and drank my juice. 

"I made you a sandwich. You have time before Simon expects you." 

"I might as well head in. Read a magazine. Try to relax." 

"I love you, but I don't want to be you," he complained with a mouth full of food. 

"I feel the same way, man. I don't know how to use your senses. All I figured how to do so far was turn them down to a tolerable level. Maybe when this is over, we'll understand each other better." 

"I don't doubt that." Jim continued to eat. 

I took Jim's truck to the municipal parking lot and headed to the bullpen. Simon handed me several files and I worked without saying anything except hello to Rhonda, Simon's secretary. I knew that I didn't have Jim's mannerisms down and didn't want Jim teased about being out of sorts. 

"Did you and Hairboy have a fight?" Henri asked. 

"No. Sandburg's fine." I returned to my files, forging Jim's signature without effort. 

Simon hollered, "There's been a robbery on Eleventh and Elm. You're needed to question the witnesses." 

"On our way," I shouted as I followed Joel Taggart to his car. I wasn't a cop. What was I going to do? I figured that I'd let Joel ask all the questions unless my senses picked up something unusual. 

"Ellison, is everything all right?" Taggart asked. 

"Everything is cool," I said. 

"You seem awful quiet," Joel said. 

"Just tired." We got the testimony from a few witnesses and left the scene of the crime. Joel offered to write up the report saying that I was out of sorts and needed to go home. 

Simon put his hand on my shoulder. "Is everything at home fine?" 

"I'm just tired." I lost my patience. I wanted to do Jim's job and get out of there. 

"Get some rest," Simon ordered. 

"After I finish the file that I'm working on." I finished quickly hoping no one would notice that I typed differently than Jim. Jim typed with one or two fingers and always looking at the keys and I touch typed, but his speed wasn't much slower than mine. Only Jim would notice something like that and, at this moment, I was Jim. 

I handed Simon the last report and headed home. Jim had made homemade spaghetti sauce, pasta and opened an expensive bottle of wine. He had got his hair trimmed and styled. He had worn gold earrings; I hadn't bothered with those earrings since before moving in with Jim, but I enjoyed the shimmer of gold behind his loose curls. I had to admit that I looked incredibly beautiful with my hair loose, wearing a peach shirt and ironed gray dress pants. 

"I couldn't reach the wine glasses," Jim smiled. 

"You could have gotten a chair." 

"I'm not used to bad eyesight," Jim said. "I've always had perfect vision." 

"And?" I enjoyed watching him put his foot in his mouth. I easily reached the glasses and put them on the table. 

"I didn't want you getting cut if I misjudged. It's one thing if I get hurt; I didn't want to be responsible for hurting you." He could leap car to car and do other life threatening things, but he didn't want to risk a cut with my hands. 

Good save. "I've learned a lot about your senses today. I won't take you for granted." 

Jim put a loaf of fresh bread on the table. "I wanted us to talk over dinner." 

"You didn't need to go to the effort." I bent my head down and kissed him. I closed my eyes, enjoying the kiss. It was a strange experience to be kissing myself. I wanted to tell him that he looked beautiful, but that was an arrogant thing to say because he was in my body. He had got my hair done, found earrings, shaved closely and even ironed my clothes. I opened my eyes and found myself looking up at Jim. "I'm me." I wrapped my arms around him and returned to kissing him. After we explored each other's mouths tentatively at first and then more roughly, we sat down to eat dinner. I filled both glasses then picked up my wine glass. "So Jim, do you love me?" 

"Yes." Jim lifted his glass and smiled at me. That smile looked so much better now that I wasn't behind it. I appreciated looking at his baby blue eyes and the line of his jaw. 

"Since when?" 

"Forever. Chief, you're so beautiful." 

I gushed. "You dressed me. Thanks for getting my hair done." 

"You don't have the money on a TA salary." Jim drank some wine. 

I ate the food Jim took most of the afternoon to prepare. "The meal looks wonderful." 

"I don't want you to date anyone else." 

"I don't know if I can do forever." 

Jim touched my hand. "Can we just take it one day at a time?" 

"That sounds like a plan. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" 

"Tonight and every night." 

"Jim, when I was in your body, I didn't get the opportunity to fondle you." I took his hand and licked his fingers then sucked on each digit. 

"Do you want to see a movie?" 

"You're the one whose knees are going to bang. I'm so glad to be back in my normal size body." 

"You're normal sized?" 

"Engineers must be my size because industrial standard seats are designed someone my height." 

Jim refilled his glass and drank more wine. "That just proves that everything is made in Japan." 

* * *

End Freaky Friday by Athena: athena@fateordestiny.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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